Mercy, Indeed
by FantasticJackie
Summary: Remus was looking forward to spending time with a certain attractive young auror after a long, boring shift only to find that she's giving her cousin a sound thrashing at chess. All possibility of flirtation is eliminated. Or is it?


**_Mercy, Indeed_**

**Disclaimer: **No, I don't claim to own Harry Potter. I'm just borrowing JKR's awesome characters.

**AN:** Written for the December/January RT Challenge ficathon.

Remus descended the stairs towards the kitchen. Halfway down, he heard the tell-tale smash of a chess piece being pulverized.

"Oh, come on, Tonks! Have mercy!" Sirius bemoaned as Remus paused on the last stair and leaned against the wall to scratch his calf with his foot. His old friend sat at the table, shoulders hunched and head dramatically resting in his hands. "I've lost the last four games!"

"When was the last time you _won_ a match, Padfoot?" he drawled teasing, itch satisfied and stepping into the kitchen. He spied the chessboard on the table; Tonks was clearing the remains of her opponent's last knight, but her eyes weren't on what she was doing.

"Wotcher, Remus." A shy smile spread across her features. Sirius was making a remark of indignation, but Remus was only paying him half mind.

"'Lo, Tonks," he replied with a minimal nod in her direction, the same smile slowly curving his mouth upward. Her hair was in midnight blue curls today, reaching just beyond her shoulders. The tendrils framed her heart-shaped face, making the light blue she'd chosen for her eyes stand out. His thumb twitched of its own accord.

He'd been on watch today, and nothing had happened. It was just as well; he hadn't minded spending the four hours wondering such things as if the texture and softness of her hair changed with the various styles she sported. And knowing that she would undoubtedly be at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, he'd rushed eagerly home. – Not that he wouldn't have disapparated even if she wasn't there…

Forcibly tearing his eyes away from her face, he turned his gaze to Sirius, expression becoming flat and indifferent.

"And you didn't even hear a word I just said, did you?" He raised a bushy black eyebrow.

"Of course I did," Remus said in objection, fighting the rush of heat he felt prickling up his neck. "You were saying-"

"Remove your hand from me!" called a tiny voice, diverting both men's attentions.

"Oh!" Tonks started to apologize, but the tiny bishop stabbed at her finger. "Ouch! Hey! Sirius, I think your chessboard is cursed along with everything else in this house."

"You're telling me," he stated dejectedly. Then, he was seemingly struck with an epiphany.

"Oh-ho," she chuckled, eyes narrowing with a grin. "You're not going to pin it off on this board. I'm beating you fair and square. Your pieces are just…"

"Touch me again and see what happens, you –" The little white bishop shouted a particularly rude obscenity.

Tonks gasped. Wide eyed, she looked to Remus. For his part, he was just as surprised; were chess pieces _supposed_ to know such language?

"Sirius. Kill that piece," she said darkly, glaring at the bishop.

He looked baffled. "But it's your piece."

"I don't care. Did you hear what it just called me? It just became expendable," she replied wickedly.

"I think it's just as good as any reason that we stop playing," he said smugly, leaning back in his seat.

"Oh? You forfeit?" she raised a brow.

The smugness disappeared. "No."

"Well, then," she said superiorly, "It's your turn."

"I'm well aware of that," he snapped.

"Would either of you care for some tea?" Remus offered, cutting in.

Sirius declined while Tonks accepted, and he moved to the sink, kettle in hand to fill it with water.

He tried to ignore the feeling of being watched while he retrieved two mugs; whether or not she actually was following his movements didn't matter. The fact still remained that she _could_ be, and that seemingly had a lot of persuasion over the beating of his heart. He tapped the kettle with his wand causing it to immediately whistle, steaming.

"You can't just take any piece you want," she explained patiently. "You have to have a strategy."

"I do have a strategy!" he protested. "Stay alive and kill as many of your pieces before they kill mine."

"Brilliant," Remus mocked, opening the cupboard before him and grabbing the tea bags.

"You're certainly in a bright mood today," Sirius said with a sidelong glance.

"Four hours alone in hiding watching the grass grow," he explained over his shoulder and then turned his back and poured the hot water into the mugs.

Of course, he wasn't about to admit that the four hours had actually been enjoyable, if physically uncomfortable and around three times as long as any other normal four hours would have been. The real reason for his sarcasm was his disappointment that Sirius was there at the same time as Tonks. He didn't know why he supposed that Sirius _wouldn't_ be there; it was his house, Tonks enjoyed being around people just as did Sirius, and the two enjoyed each other's company. It was probably unfair to be annoyed with his mate, but such was the power of women.

"Hmm…" Sirius said thoughtfully. "Bishop to E7. – I can't help but notice that I'm the only one you're taking out your aggressions on," he said.

But in the kitchen, Remus was caught in the midst of a dilemma – it was time to serve the tea. He knew how Tonks took her tea, yet at the same time, he knew how Tonks took her tea. The issue was thus: if she had any leanings towards him, like he suspected she did, then she would be impressed and touched by his knowledge of such things, but _Sirius_ was present. Any demonstration of such knowledge would land both him and Tonks in an undoubtedly awkward situation which would include, but not be limited to, much blushing. To ask or not to ask...

"Tonks," Remus asked making his decision; he would have to impress her in another way. "How do you take your tea?"

"A little milk and one lump of sugar, please," she replied without thinking. "Rook to E7."

"Have a heart, Tonks!" Sirius cried as a violent crunching sounded through the kitchen. "Isn't there one merciful bone in that body of yours to spare on your dear, old cousin?"

"On certain occasions, Aurors are trained to extend mercy," she said seriously. "Chess matches are not amongst them."

Sirius made a strangled sound.

"_Mercy_," Remus sang in a low voice as he stirred the single lump of sugar into the tea. It wasn't until he turned around that he connected their silence with what he'd just said. The quirked eyebrows only arched higher as he placed Tonks' tea before her and sat in the seat beside her.

"What was that for?" she asked bemusedly, eyes dancing as she took a sip of her tea. He studied her reaction out of the corner of his eyes as he brought his own mug to his lips and noticed a light flush on her cheeks, though he had no idea why it was there. "Mmm… Perfect. Thanks, Remus."

He smiled. "Any time."

"Well?" Sirius prompted. "Care to share?"

Remus arched his brows passively. "It's from a muggle song – Pretty Woman by Roy Orbison."

"Really." He looked skeptical.

"No," Tonks intervened, turning to face Remus. "I know it."

He was surprised, though he wasn't sure why he should have been. Tonks thrived on pop culture; he'd never suspected she knew much about muggles, though.

"My dad," she explained as if she could read his slight confusion. Had it been written all over his face?

"Ah." That made sense.

"How do you know it?" Sirius asked.

He frowned thoughtfully, thinking. "I don't remember where I was or what I was doing," he said beginning. "But I heard it on a muggle radio station in passing. I decided that I liked it…"

"It's okay," Tonks said in a reasoned tone, considering. "'s got nothing on the Weird Sisters, though," she continued with a grin.

"Obsessions are never healthy, Tonks. I speak from experience," Sirius pointed out, reclining on the back two legs of his chair.

She spat her tongue out at him (and Remus took a long, slow draught from his mug in an effort to concentrate on the still-too-hot beverage rather than muscles of both the voluntary and involuntary sort), but turned to Remus once again, a question written in her expression. "It was still random, though; what made you think of it?" Her eyes were light and playful. Mischievous.

He was feeling hot again; did she have to be so acute in her perceptions? Truth be told, the reason he'd thought of the song in the first place was what Sirius had said: "_Isn't there one merciful bone in that body of yours…_"

Tonks' body… His mind had gone into overload at just the words, let alone any momentary mental projections he may or may not have had._ Mercy, indeed_, had been his thought, which had led to the song. He hadn't thought anyone would have connected the dots, least of all Tonks, when he'd given in to the impulse to sing the one word phrase.

But judging by the way she was still watching him, he had a feeling that Tonks knew _exactly_ how and why he'd thought of the song.

His face, neck, and even ears were growing steadily warmer under her gaze as he scrambled for an avenue out of her ingenious trap. That is, until he noticed the pretty blush she was wearing herself.

A thought struck him: Why should he be embarrassed if she knew he thought her an attractive woman? The mischief had vanished from her eyes to be replaced with veiled shyness searching his face intently.

He was suddenly confident, if only to put her at ease.

"I don't know," he answered inclining his head slightly in a thoughtful manner. His true intentions were far from appearing contemplative, however. He looked to Sirius to add to the charade, but with a sidelong glance to her, he continued, "It popped to the front of my mind and seemed appropriate somehow."

"Yeah," Sirius said sulkily from the other side of the table. "Even you were begging for me."

But yet again, Remus wasn't paying attention to him. Reading Tonks' understanding, if still a little shy, smirk seemed much more important at the moment.

He smiled to himself and checked Sirius' reaction, but he hadn't read into anything during the exchange. Remus' cheeks threatened to tighten into an even wider grin, but after everything, he didn't want to give any hint of what had transpired. There was something thrilling about flirting with the witch who had captured his attention for months who coincidentally was his best mate's very attractive cousin right under said mate's nose...

"I give," Sirius said reaching forward and knocking his king over. (It swore obscenely at him while the broken pieces pulled themselves together.) "No point in prolonging the inevitable. I'm crap at chess, anyway." As an afterthought, he added, "I'm hungry. Either of you want a sandwich?"

"No, thank you," they replied at the same time. Mutual glances were exchanged.

He shrugged as he stood and entered the kitchen.

"I'll play you," Remus announced quietly. It gave him a reason to focus his attention solely on her. He was also counting that Sirius would become bored with their, what would undoubtedly become, extended match.

"I'm not showing you any mercy, either," she said, eyes glittering.

"Oh…" he replied in a low voice, reaching for the pieces, "Please don't."


End file.
